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‘It’s spreading fast,’ he says. ‘But they’re out there now, fighting it. Let’s hope no-one loses their home tonight.’
I nod. But I can’t help feel that he’s making some kind of pointed remark about me. Is he insinuating that I won’t have a place to stay tonight? He can’t be, can he?
As much as Finn can be gruff and abrupt — and even, let’s face it, pretty darn moody with me — I just don’t believe that he’s a cruel man. Ican’tlet myself believe that.
Especially not after Chris. I can’t make the same mistake twice.
By the time we get to the sheriff’s department, I’m even doubting that he’s not cruel. I mean, how could he kiss me and then act like it meant nothing to him? Even if he didn’t like the way I kissed — and it sure seemed like he did — he should still be a gentleman and talk to me like a human being. It’s all so confusing.
Maybe, if he’s going to be like this, I should give him a taste of his own medicine. See how he likes it.
We get out of the Chevy and I slam the door, trying to prove a point.
But Finn is a man on a mission. He marches up to the door of the building without even stopping to help me walk over there.
I wish he’d tell me what all this is about. All I know is that something has happened to Georgie, the woman who owns the land Finn’s cabin is on. And now the sheriff wants to talk to him.
I enter the one-story building and can’t believe how old-fashioned this place is. The foyer is all wood-paneled, with dusty pot plants and a selection of flags hanging from the wall. The American flag, of course, plus the Colorado state flag — white and blue with a red ‘C’ in the center and a golden disk inside. Then there’s a ‘thin blue line’ flag representing the law enforcement standing between chaos and order. The flags are so large that they make the place rather oppressive, but they certainly get the message across — this place is official, and the people here are working to protect the nation.
We sit on a leather sofa in the foyer, which looks like it’s been here longer than all the staff combined — and I can’t say that any of them look young, either.
I wonder, as we wait for the sheriff to see us, whether there’s any way I could tell him about Chris. Surely, if I’m in some kind of danger, we could ask for official protection?
On the other hand, since getting out of prison, we can’t actually prove that Chris has done anything. It’s perfectly legal to hire a private detective. I mean, even my straight-laced sister got one.
We could perhaps get the detective in trouble for violating some kind of state or federal law. Harassment, or entering private property. But I get the feeling it’d take so long to even put a small case like that together, that it’s not worth it. The detective has already found me now. He’s got my face on camera. Which means that Chris has all that information too. What good would it do to get his license revoked, if that was even possible?
I just have to hope that Chris is satisfied with knowing that I’m married, and that he leaves me alone.
Still, I can’t help but keep thinking about that acid, imagining the horrible sensation of it crawling all over my skin. He wouldn’t do that, would he?
‘Mr. Wilder,’ says a man with a brown, wide-brimmed hat and a rough, gray beard. He must be at least sixty. Maybe older.
Finn stands up and I follow suit. Don’t want to appear disrespectful.
‘This is Addison Clarke,’ says Finn. ‘She’s staying at my lodgings for a while. Some jerk in Denver has been causing her trouble. Crazed ex.’
The sheriff puts his hand to his head and raises his hat an inch. ‘Ma’am,’ he says. ‘Sorry to hear there’s a fella causing you trouble. Any sign of violent behavior from him, you report it to me, okay?’
I nod. ‘Thank you, er, sir.’ I always get awkward around police, like I feel anxious, thinking that I’ve committed some crime, even when I haven’t, of course. Like I’m gonna get in trouble for some reason.
‘Now then,’ says the sheriff, turning back to Finn. ‘I’ll need you to come into my office, Mr. Wilder. You want to come alone, or bring Ms. Clarke?’
Finn looks at me, finally actuallylooks at me, for the first time since we kissed. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, just for a moment, but I can’t put my finger on it. Regret? Apology? Lust? Hatred? Could be anything.
‘What do you want to do?’ he asks me.
It strikes me that I can’t ever remember him asking whatIwant before, until right now.
I return his gaze, knowing that I’m meant to be giving him the cold shoulder, a taste of his own medicine. But with the sheriff’s eyes on us, I hardly feel like playing games. It’s not the right time. Besides, I don’t know how long he’ll be in there. I don’t want to sit out here, on the leather sofa, staring at nothing but flags and half-dead pot plants for hours on end.
‘I’d like to come in, please,’ I say. I leave it at that. Short and sweet.
We follow the sheriff — who I now know as Sheriff Potts, from seeing the sign on his door — into his office. I’m the last to enter, so I shut the door behind me, and then scan the room.
There’s someone else in here, sitting by the sheriff’s desk. She’s about the same age as the sheriff, I’d say. Her hair is dyed brown over gray roots, and there’s a beauty mark just below her left eye. She’s stocky and well-built, wearing chinos and a high-buttoned green blouse that comes all the way up to her neck. In spite of her severe appearance, there’s a softness about her gray eyes and half-smiling mouth that makes me instantly drawn to her.
‘This is Georgie Brown,’ says the Sheriff, looking at me and motioning toward the woman. Sothat’sGeorgie. The way Finn had spoken about her, as an ‘old lady’, I’d pictured her as some helpless fossil, but this woman seems strong and healthy, in spite of her advancing years.
